


I Love You (I Know)

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, Secret Relationship, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam always knows what Michael needs.  Always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You (I Know)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Small Fandom Fest in '12, prompt "Sam always knows what Michael needs".

It’s not always about the sex.

Not that the sex isn’t mind-blowingly fantastic most of the time, and twice as creative as anything Sam has experienced in his varied and sex-laden life. But he couldn’t spend his entire life with a hard-on locked and cocked. That was when the conversation would come into the picture, and Sam would remember just why he and Michael were so good for each other.

“Remember Russia?” A two-word phrase that would always send them without fail down memory lane. The cafes had been razed and homogenized with time – and even then they weren’t allowed to express their attraction for one another through touches or kisses. So they would communicate with teasing toes underneath a table, the subtle pressure of hands in passing. It turned into nights of pulled hair and bruised flesh, or gentle caress followed by a teasing whisper. 

It was love on the run. Michael’s favorite brand of romance and the sort that Sam would force himself to become used to. To love. 

Love, Sam often said, was in the little things. “When you bring me beer, that’s love,” he declared on lazy afternoon between missions. They had snuck off together to find a little peace and ended up in a hammock on the quarterdeck of a boat belonging to one of Sam’s squeezes. Michael doesn’t ask often, and Sam never dares to speak of the possibility of deeper feeling; they’d take bullets for each other, die to keep each other safe. But Sam simplified things. He always would. To be precise, Michael remembered not only Sam’s brand but whether he loved lager or pale ale, if he wanted it chilled or just slightly warmer. 

Good times and good brews were all Sam desired to keep his soul and body together. It was the sort of enviable emotional attitude that Michael could never fake, for he cared far too much.

**** 

Love to him meant loyalty. Sam gave him that in spades. He couldn’t think of anyone else who would gladly offer himself up to a bunch of drug runners just to get Michael the intel he needed, a single man who would throw himself into the jaws of the enemy and take a bullet in arm. But that was Sam; Sam was special. He could do it all without a worry, or even a second thought. But Sam did everything he needed him to all without a second thought.

Michael can run is palm along the man’s back – flat to his skin – and feel the pockmarks of old bullet wounds and the indentation of small cuts. Sam’s mind is as sharp as a steel trap, but his body shows the wear and tear of too many battles against America’s monsters. Every crevice and pockmark were a line drawn directly toward the center of Sam’s soul – Michael worshipped him. Michael appreciated him. Michael knew, without a doubt, that he couldn’t survive the hellfire ready to rain down on him without Sam at his side.

It was the kind of loyalty that neither of them has ever had to question.

Not even once.

*** 

They don’t talk about it when Panama goes down. Michael’s too busy making sure Fiona and Jesse the shoeless wonder are both safe and sound. Later, when they’re taking a breather in a café, Sam slides his fingers into Michael’s grip. The subtle stiffening of his shoulders speaks a volume about fears of discovery and

A tiny part of Sam shrinks away and pulls off, like a frozen bit of detritus sent upon the wind.

Michael needed space now and Sam - who had never been good at ‘aloof’ – gave him his distance.

It was the very least he could do for the man he loved.

*** 

Sam didn’t know when exactly he’d fallen for Michael’s charms. It was probably somewhere between Memphis and the Northern Irish coast. Definitely before he’d rolled up on Miami’s shores with just twenty bucks in his pocket and started sleeping his way through every beautiful rich woman he could find. 

Admittedly, Michael’s charms were hard to discover when they were bedded down in a bombed out hotel and had only the night and each other’s bodies to provide succor against the chill wind. 

He gave Michael the shelter of his body and the warmth of his heartbeat against his ear, just to remind Michael that human contact existed, that they would never be entirely alone in this world as long as they had one another.

Fifteen years later, Sam understood that he could give Michael other, more important gifts now. He could show him that the warmth of humanity was not entirely strained, and that the goodness of their love still lingered underneath it all.

*** 

Sam Axe was not a patient man. They’d been back in Miami for less than four hours before Sam confronted Michael over his lack of emotional sensitivity. 

Sam didn’t know what he’d expected out of Michael, but he received a ton of hemming and hawing before Michael finally asked what Sam expected from him.

Sam responded by falling to his knees and unzipping Michael’s pants.

“Sam…” the rest of what he wanted to say died on a whimper as Sam proceeded to deep throat him until he screamed aloud. Actually screamed.

Nothing but silence filled the room for fifteen long minutes before Sam sat back on his heels. 

“Why’d you do that?” Michael wondered.

“You looked like you needed a little bit of fun,” Sam said, wiping his bottom lip as the devil danced in his eyes.

***

In the end, Sam’s with Michael. It’s another blown-up, god-forsaken rock of a place, and they’re the last two standing. In a tragically common twist, they’re interlaced like two lost lovers under the stars, listening to the rapid patter of machine gun fire and praying for swift ends. 

“Mike,” Sam mutters against his temple, letting the tears roll by. “God, Mike, I still love…”

Michael simply presses his finger to Sam’s lips, silencing him.

He’d given Michael silence for so long, so he answered the touch with a hard kiss.

It was time he took what he needed.

So he did.

**Author's Note:**

> This work of fanfiction uses characters from **Burn Notice** , which is the property of _NBC/Universal._ Infringement for monetary gain has not occurred, and this is a work of fanfiction intended for nonprofit use only.


End file.
